


Tetris 100

by KitariAuthor



Series: The Rusameiya Complex [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1980s, Gen, Human!Ivan, Nation!Alfred, Nation!Ivan, Or should I say different...world, Sent Back in Time, Soviet Union, Tetris Competition, You'll know why I gave Russia two different tags later, alright the OCs have some importance but aren't the main characters, except maybe for the villian kinda, tetris - Freeform, you'll just have to wait and see XD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-04 05:48:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21192581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitariAuthor/pseuds/KitariAuthor
Summary: America and Russia are Tetris buddies now, finding a game that the two kindled gamers can bond on. However, when America tries out an old Tetris game that Russia left on and gets transported back into the Soviet Union of the 1980s, he needs to figure out how to get him and Russia (?) out of there...and maybe uncover a few things about what had happened to them along the way.





	1. Russian T-Spin

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my little TetrisTimeWarp!AU. Yes, the title was kinda based off of the concept of Tetris 99. Some of the chapter lengths are gonna be real diverse, but bare with me, here. It was supposed to be a one-shot, then it grew to...a lot of shots ^^;. I dunno, we'll see. I'm trying to knock more stories down and at the same time, bring 'em back up. America's a little OOC, but I hope his monologue can explain why.

America was hanging out at Russia's place after a World Meeting. They were chill friends at this point and had taken up playing video games with each other. Russia didn't think that this was going to be a great idea, considering that he wasn't very versed in playing such things. However, when he figured out that America had a hand at playing Tetris, he was ecstatic. 

"Dude, how did you do that?!" America whooped in laughter as he watched Russia tumble in another T-Spin, earning him extra points. They were playing a simple competitive Tetris match. America wasn't fairing as well as Russia was, but he was pretty decent at the game.

"Practice, Fredka," he chuckled.

"Yo, you gotta properly teach me how to do that," the American prompts as their match ends, Russia winning, obviously, "Dude, I'm only good at combos and those obviously aren't getting me anywhere with you!"

Russia simply smiled at him. Correction, America was decent against him. Had he been playing against anyone else, he'd probably destroy them with flying colors. The American just didn't know how much better he's gotten at the game with the training that the Russian was giving him. Although, it was the T-Spin that seemed to be America's weak link. He wasn't very good at waiting and timing T-Blocks to spin them into slots. Making the slot itself, he's fine. Dropping blocks in the right place, he can do. Combo-ing like crazy, totally okay at. But waiting without solidifying a T-Block's placement for a T-Spin? America was just too impatient.

"Very well," Russia grins, starting up an easy round, "I will teach you how to T-Spin."

"Heck, yes!" America pumps a fist in the air, readying his controller.

The blocks start descending slowly down the board. America already knew how to make a T-Spin slot, with his quick-thinking brain and dextrous fingers. Now, all he had to do was carefully maneuver a T-Block down and quickly rotate it into the slot for a T-Spin. Before America had gotten a T-Block, Russia tapped his shoulder, directing him to the Russian's side of the board.

"Alright, Fredka, do you see this?" Russia flips the T-Block a couple of times so that way when he rotates it at the last second, it would fall into his slot. Just as the block touches the surface of his stack, Russia quickly rotates it into his slot, knocking away two lines, the announcement of his move onscreen, "That's a T-Spin."

"Ah," America said distractedly. He saw what Russia did and all he needed to do was reenact it. He stacked a couple of blocks as he'd do for a normal combo and saw that a T-Block was coming up. Instead of insta-dropping it down, he waited for the T-Block to inch down the board and reach, and...

"Look! Russia, look, I did it!" America screamed, overjoyed about one little move.

Russia laughed at the younger nation's childish antics, finding his happiness to be endearing. The two worked on America's T-Spin and did a couple more competitive games against each other the other had to return back to his home.

~~~~~

*knock, knock*

"Hey, Russia! I'm ready to rumble, man!" America called out, ready to play another couple of rounds of Tetris with his newly found friend. He came dressed in a more casual style of clothing, instead of the formal uniform he had at the meeting, but kept his bomber jacket.

However, after calling out and trying to call and text the older nation and getting no response, America started feeling concern about Russia's whereabouts. After calling and texting Ukraine and Belarus, and heck, even his Baltics and other Slavic nations, hearing that they haven't seen him, America decided to take matters into his own hands and see what's up. Turning the surprisingly unlocked door handle, he pushed the door open and walked inside Russia's house. He's done this a couple of times before but never had he ever felt like he was intruding like how he felt now.

"Russia?" America called out to the eerily empty house. There was still no response. America walked up to Russia's room and nudged the door open. There, sitting in his room, was a newly set up TV and game console, displaying a Tetris home screen. There were a couple of consoles there, actually, but he noticed the new one right away. However, the game displayed on the screen didn't look like the normal Tetris that he and Russia usually played. No, this one was retro and had weird neon-esque colors.

America didn't remember much about the history of Tetris, but he swears that this might be the first version of Tetris to ever come out. It just didn't make any sense that it was on the big screen and not on...a Gameboy, or something. The game set up didn't even entirely fit in the screen; it seemed more fitting for an older PC. Something like an IBM, if they even had those in Russia back in the day.

The younger nation noted the retro-style keyboard (definitely for an IBM, he thought) and abandoned controller. He slowly sat down in front of the screen, setting his fingers down on the keyboard's controls. He has practiced on both PC and consoles, so he knew his way around these types of controls. The style was a bit outdated, but he was sure Russia wouldn't mind him practicing on this older version before they got started.

...It's been a couple of hours and America had finally managed to get past Level 30 in the original Tetris. He didn't even really come to think that Tetris even really had levels, but apparently they did. America had to admit when those blocks started raining like crazy, he did panic a great deal but managed to pull it off after a couple of attempts. Just as he was about to set the game screen back to home, the pixels started...freaking out and scattering across in a crash.

"Aw, no," America groaned, trying to tack something on the keyboard to get out of the game, "Man, Russia's probably gonna kill me for this," he muttered as the game started frizzing out.

Or at least that's what he thought it was doing. Suddenly the screen started lighting up in an impossible white, frying America's retinas for a split second before swallowing him whole. He felt his body being sucked in by a strong, unseeable force, pulling him into the TV screen. The American was thrown and tossed into this swirl of color and light, blocks and pixels flashing by his eyes and reflecting off of his glasses. He desperately tried to control his fall, flight, pull, whatever was happening to him, whilst screaming in confusion and fear. America resorted to curling up into a ball as he was shot through this vortex.


	2. Alik Has Joined the Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, from this point onward, everything everyone's saying is in Russian. I'm not going in and italicizing every single line of dialogue in this story, I'm sorry. Just know whenever they're speaking in English, is when it's italicized...I think. Anyways, enjoy the chapter~

When he came to, he found himself lying down on top of a dirty sidewalk in some city. He struggled to stand up, feeling heavy from whatever sent him here, to begin with. Adjusting his glasses to sit properly on his face, he took in his surroundings. America felt a brisk breeze caress his body, nipping at his face. It felt like the beginnings of winter where he was. People start pushing past him, either looking like they were poor or better off. Where was he?

As he started walking around, a newspaper whapped him in the face like a movie cliche. America sputtered in surprise as he pulled the wet newspaper from his face. The words of the paper stuck out to him, the headlines blaring out like a tabloid. It took America a couple of seconds to figure out what it said, or more or so what language it was in.

There it was, in bold Russian Cyrillic, 'Cold War Coming to an End! Sooner than Later?'. America had his back against the brick wall of a building, out of the way of the incoming pedestrians. He was staring at the newspaper a bit too long and hard.

His eyes glance up at the date, translating it, "...November 12th...1986...?" he murmured under his breath, almost screaming. The paper, despite being beaten up by the city streets, looked recent. Well, brushing off the fact that, wow, that's why it feels so cold, America realized that he was in Russia, in the year 1986, during the time of the Cold War. He bit his lip. Besides the fact that he looked quite well off and much more healthy than most, he didn't want to reveal the fact that he was American to these people just yet. America swiftly shed his jacket and tied it around his waist, hoping to draw attention away from it. He...why was he even here?! How did he even get here?

The video game, his mind thought. Maybe it sucked Russia in to? Is this where he went? If so, how were they going to get out? Where was Russia, then? Wait...where was he? His Russian was definitely not used all that often, but he knows the language well enough to bring the creator of it into a truce to end this...currently occurring war. Man, it wasn't so long ago, but it still was somewhat awkward. Did he really hate Russia that much back then?

"Excuse me?" he asked a random civilian, "Where am I? What city am I in?"

The Russian man looked at him quizzically, taking in America's too-lightly dressed apparel and oddly flawless appearance, before answering, "You are in Moscow, sir."

America nodded after a thought, "Thank you."

The man gave him a concerned look, "Should you be wearing something warmer? You might get sick."

"No, I'm fine. I'm naturally warm, I assure you," America chuckled at the man's reaction. He got that a lot. First stop, he was going to try to find Russia's house in this time period. He was in Moscow, so he shouldn't be that far away.

As he walked around the mussy and intricate streets of 1980's Moscow, Russia, America took in everything that he thought he wouldn't see again, even if some of it he's probably never seen before since this was Russia. His eyes drew to a peculiar little nook near an alleyway of a street corner. It looked fairly busy and filled with young teenaged boys. They appeared to be playing something on two IBM computers. A small crowd of them circled around these two boys that appeared to be playing against each other.

Curious, America walked inside the slightly heated building to get a better look at what's happening. Most of the Russian boys that were in this run-down place looked like they came out of school, with their uniforms. Some of them were shocked, others a little scared, to see an adult among their amidst. 

He glanced down at one of the frightened boys and inquired warmly (as to not spook the poor boy further), "What are you boys playing?"

The boy found relief in America's kind voice and responded as strongly as he could, "We're playing Tetris, sir."

So they had unofficial Tetris tournaments back then, huh? America never knew. Just his luck to stumble across a Tetris game after he was just sucked in by one. Wait. What if the game put him in here on purpose? What if this is supposed to mean something? America gazed from the back of the room, spying at the two leading players at the computers. There was an ashen blonde hair boy completely destroying the brunette boy. It wasn't long before the brunette's towers hit the top of the board, knocking off his last...life? They had lives in Tetris? Well, he KO-ed out of play, that's for sure.

He heard the Russian teens call out that the 'champion reigns on'. They gave a minimal cheer as if they knew this was going to happen, as the two contestants stood up from their seats and shook hands. The brunette walked away, struggling to hide his dejected face, blending in with the rest of the crowd.

"Are there any other competitors ready to play?" the ashen blond asked uncaringly to another older looking one. He shook his head, smirking at the revelation.

"No, you are unbeatable, Braginsky," another teen chuckled.

Braginsky? America watched the winning Tetris player turn around. There stood a teenage version of Russia, wearing a school uniform, complete with his trademark scarf. He looked bored with the vapid results of today's Tetris games.

"That's a shame," teenaged Russia mused, unimpressed, "I was hoping something interesting would happen today."

"Sasha, there's an adult here!" a younger boy chimed to one of younger Russia's friends (?).

Human Russia and his entourage turned to face America and he watched his violet eyes narrow in interest, "That is no adult," he chuckled, "That is a child wishing to play."

America was so amused with how confident this Russia doppelganger was about his age. He did look younger than he was. His height, surprisingly matched up with his, making him the second tallest in the room. This younger human Russia intrigued him as much as it irritated him. Russia would've never looked down on anyone if they wanted to play a match of Tetris with him. That would destroy the build-up to their reaction. Then again, Russia did say that these confident types of people were the most fun to knockdown.

"So," America inquired, trying to pull on his best Russian, complete with a decent accent, "What would it take to take you on, then?"

The Russian smirked, imagining the newcomer's naivety, "You must climb up the ladder, first. Defeat the lower players and make your way up to my friends," he gestures to the two other taller Russians (a tad bit shorter than America, he smirked), "...and try your best to take them down, as well. Then you will be able to make an attempt on me."

America smiled. This sounded fun! "When do I start? Or do you want to go now?"

"No, we just finished up today," the violet-eyed teen said, "You will have to wait tomorrow."

America couldn't wait, "Cannot wait to take you down, Braginsky," he offered with a smile, using the name that the other boys called him by. If memory served him right, then his first name should be-

"Ivan," the doppelganger corrected with a secretive grin, "You may call me Ivan. What do we call you, newcomer?"

America chuckled inside his head, "Alik," he amended his name to Russian. Russia had called him a lot of different Russian diminutives for 'Alfred'. Alik seemed the most normal sounding. He could've gone for something like 'Fredka' or 'Fedya', but those, by themselves, sounded like nicknames in themselves.

"Just Alik?" Ivan raised a brow.

"Yes," America chuckled. This already felt like a fun game, "You don't need to know the rest of my name," or any of his real name for that matter.

Ivan just smirked at his antics. He'll get a real name out of him soon enough. He'll defeat him like he's done to every other competitor that has faced him so far. Besides, Alik didn't look like much. In fact, he doesn't even look to sure of himself.

America hid a gulp. The game had to have led him to this hideaway. There was Russia, right there, with his human name and everything, just shrunken down a couple of centuries. He had a feeling that he wasn't going to be going back without him if he didn't defeat him in this ragtag game. If this all goes to naught, then so be it. There had to be a way out of this time era.

"See you tomorrow, then, Alik."

"You too, Ivan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the chapters are short. Forgive me, but many of them are going to be that way. Maybe chapters in the later future will be more fleshed out, but we'll see.
> 
> Oh, and also, America's way of speech is very different than how he speaks in real life. There are no contractions or slang. I did this because if you were to literally translate Russian, there wouldn't be any of those things. So if you see him speak normally, he's probably speaking English. Just an FYI. ^^
> 
> Tell me what you think! Thank you~  
And yeees~, I'm gonna be asking this every tiiiime~


	3. Curiosity Shrouded in Mystery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, something that I noticed, I don't know if some of you saw it, the notes for Chapter 1, that were supposed to be on the bottom of that, was on the bottom of Chapter 2, with their notes. I don't know why that did that, just know that was a mistake.  
Anyways, I don't know how to exactly chop up my pages so they can come up with good sections to read in chapters...but here, enjoy. ^^

It was the next day and America already took out the first five competitors. He had to hold himself back to make sure Ivan and his group, along with the rest of the students do not get suspicious of his playing abilities. Not many adults played this game back then, it appeared, as they did in his time. Besides, they didn't really believe that he was an adult anymore, to begin with. He made some quicksaves and always managed to clear his board whenever it appeared to fill up. America, no, Alik impressed every teen inside the room with his playing skills.

He was gonna make sure to thank Russia after this was all over, "There, who's next?" he asked as the enraged competitor was tugged out of the chair before he blew up. America gave the kid some credit; he did really well and tried his best.

"You're doing very well," Ivan praised with an expression of mild amusement, "When have you the time to practice?"

"I've practiced with a...friend for a while," America bit back the words 'what do you mean, you and I practice all the time', "He's better than I am," or at least he thinks he is, currently. With the situation at hand, he didn't know for certain.

"Who is this mentor of yours?" Ivan inquired, giving him a look of mock innocence and curiosity.

There was curiosity, America knew, but he's known Russia for a long time to know that he's trying to figure out if Alik knew anyone he knew. This version of Russia wasn't exactly very good at hiding his intentions as the superpower adult version of him is, "Oh, no one that you know, I am sure," ha, no, Ivan knows this person better than he does anyone else.

"Tell me his name, I might surprise you," Ivan pressed.

"No, I am serious, you don't know him," America shot him back down, "He's a very close friend of mine," or so he wishes. Were they close friends? "And he had this big fight a long time ago. He and I played a couple of rounds of Tetris and then it became a normal thing. Now, is there anyone else that wants to play me?"

America played a couple of more rounds, without another word to Ivan, before the session was over and everyone had to leave. He was the last one to exit out of the building, heading out into the cold twilight of Moscow. The American didn't really have anywhere to go besides hiding out in alleyways and maybe persuading a patron at the bar to buy him a meal for the night. He was getting better at picking up the Russian around here. He didn't have anywhere to go or food to readily eat. America was basically homeless.

"Alik."

The American whirled around (he was also getting used to responding to his alias, watch him) and was met with the violet eyes of teenage Ivan, "What are you doing out here like a lost puppy? Are you not going to go home?"

"I will be fine, Ivan," America waved his hand out in an uncaring motion. People around him were heading back to their homes or to the bar. The night was descending upon them, "Where I go is none of your business."

"You're homeless," Ivan stated bluntly with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Leave it up to young, communist, human Ivan to laugh at America's expense, "So? I've been able to keep myself up despite that," yeah, America, keep playing this lying game.

"You look very well kept," Ivan noted, taking in Alik's clean appearance. He admitted that he was homeless, but Ivan saw that he was wearing a clean, white button-up, a neat pair of slacks and...some kind of weird brand of shoes. He's never seen quality like that before. His clothing was somewhat wrinkled and slept-in, but they seem clean. He assumes that Alik has a job and gets his clothes dry-cleaned. Must have the money somehow.

"Why, thank you," America smiled brightly, successfully keeping in a snicker. Of course, he was, he was the personification of the United States of America. He had these kinda things whether he liked it or not. He doesn't say anything else about it.

Before Ivan could say anything else, Alik manages to slip away and head down a series of alleyways, effectively evading Ivan's attempts to confront him again. Alik has disappeared once again.

~~~~~

America was wandering around this Saturday morning and found himself standing in front of a school where rich-looking, uniform donned teens were filtering inside of it. Young men and women students were heading inside for school. 

The American was about to go off on his way before he heard his name being called out from an incoming parking car, "Alik!" he turned around and was met with an interesting and new-looking automobile that America might've seen in his borders a long time ago. They weren't very popular and he didn't recognize the model. But the door of the car opened and he figured out who called out to him.

"Oh, it is just you," America responded casually, as he watched the Russian student get out of the car.

"What do you mean 'it is just me'?" aw, cute, Ivan looks irritated, "What are you doing outside my school? Do you go here?"

"No," America said smoothly. Dang, his acting game was just getting better, "I'm homeless, remember? In fact, I think this rich man's place seems a bit too outta my reach."

"Where did you get these fancy clothes?"

"These are fancy to you?" America laughed, "Your clothes seem to pay in rubles, if you ask me," nice save, converting to Russian currency, while smoothly keeping in the act and avoiding the question, "You probably need to get to school. You should not go inside tardy."

"Do not worry," Ivan scoffed, "My father pays in big donations for the school and the curriculum is easy."

"Good for you, kid," the American waved off. Ivan was still as smart and somewhat snoopy as he was in real life. He better shut him down before he figures out anything, "Listen, you go inside and impress the life out of your teachers. If your classes are really that easy, then you can handle sitting in there completing your work. Better get your homework done before our little Tetris competition."

"I do not need to be present if there is no one to compete against."

"Well, I hope you can handle the daunting task of surviving the clutches of boredom that is the school faction, Mr. Braginsky," America smiled jokingly in a flamboyant manner. 

Ivan smirked at the others' antics. He's never seen anyone act this interestingly and expressively, "Fine, perhaps I will."

"You do just that, kid."

"Do not call me 'kid'," Ivan pouted, "I cannot be much older than yourself."

Despite himself, America let out an amused laugh, throwing his head back in the secret joke that he just relished in, "You do not know anything about me, Ivan!" he subsided his chuckles down so he could speak to him with coherent sentences, "All you need to know is that I am just a man interested in your little Tetris game, is all. I really could have gone about my life without engaging in your game," no, he couldn't. He really couldn't. America needed to get him and Russia out of here, "But I did not. I am interested, you had my attention, however, my attention resides only during the Tetris proceedings. I do not think I have a need to engage with your personal life," or at least he thinks he doesn't have to. The game is Tetris and he needs to get Russia out of it. What else does he need to do, then?

The Russian glared at him for a moment at those words. He will admit, this Alik did intrigue him quite a lot. Ivan, for some reason, didn't want this to be just a game, then he was gone. He didn't know anything about him and he didn't like that. A decision was made in Ivan's brain that he was to figure out Alik before this tournament ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...hmm, yeah, this ended up being really short. I think a lot of them are going to be like that, sorry...but the story will be told anyways, in the end, don't worry. XD
> 
> Tell me what you think!


	4. The White Side of the Chess Board

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Why are the endnotes doing this to me...

There were a lot of ranks that Alik has to go through before he could even think about going up against him. Ivan had the utmost confidence in his Tetris abilities and defeating him would be a tremendous task altogether. He watched his mysterious rival slowly but surely climb up past the many competitors who tried to go against him. Ivan had to admit, Alik was very good. Just when you thought that he was going to lose, he turned it around and defeated his opponent with flying colors. This was for nearly every player. Some would give Alik some credit and be a bit more cautious about their moves. Others had been too arrogant and fell faster than their blocks. It wouldn't be long before Alik was up against his bishops; the two Russian champions that Ivan had defeated long ago. He called them his bishops. Come to think of it, Alik would make a nice addition to his court. A knight, perhaps?

"And, he lost," one of the students watched with a resigned sigh as one of their own was once again beaten by Alik's hands. This newcomer was really irritating to the student body inside, Ivan noticed, "Where did this crazy person come from? Do you think he will defeat Braginsky?"

"He's never taken a defeat before, here. Perhaps."

"No, he is all talk. That is what his bishops were like until Ivan came and showed them."

"He will fall like the rest of them. He is just following protocol."

"You did very well," Alik complimented with a small smile. He had a way to make good sportsmanship with everyone. The opponent glanced at his offered hand before giving him a resigned shake.

"You, as well," he said to Alik, "I thought I had you for a moment."

"You nearly did," Alik chuckled, "I do not deny that a lot of you had."

Ivan watched as all of the students started filing out of the building, leaving Alik still sitting at his seat, staring at the screen. He had this expression on his face that Ivan couldn't figure out. 

"Alik, you are loitering around again," Ivan sighed playfully, putting a hand on Alik's shoulder. 

The young man whirled around with a guarded look of...hope on his face? The expression died instantly as he shrugged the hand off his shoulder, standing up, "Ah, apologies, Ivan. I was just thinking about things."

"Sounds like a dangerous past time for you," he already did things moment to moment. Rarely did Ivan ever see him have to think. He would just...do. Never seemed to wait around.

He missed the second of pain flash across Alik's face, "You do not know what I think of. You do not know if it is dangerous or not."

"Is it about that friend of yours?" Ivan inquired suddenly, slightly surprised by the smidge of hardness in his own voice, "The one that taught you how to play so well?"

The shock on Alik's face told Ivan his answer. Alik, then, just gave him another one of his laughs, except this time there was an undertone of bitterness, "You know much more than you think, Ivan!" he chuckled, pushing his glasses back up his nose bridge, "I do not understand why you are still trying to figure me out. Ah," his face contorted a little in thought, "That was not worded correctly."

"What do you mean?"

"Russia, you-" his face paled at his words. Ivan heard it a hundred percent and was surprised. Alik's flustered face was an interesting one, "I-I mean, Ivan," he started again, "If I tried to explain to you, you will not understand until the game is over. I still have a long way to go before I get to play against you, correct?"

"One hundred."

"...What?"

"You need to defeat ninety-eight players, including my bishops, to get to me. I am player ninety-nine. You would be...player one hundred, Alik."

Alik smiled a sad grin that didn't sit well with Ivan, "It would be a shame if someone ruined such a perfect number, huh?"

~~~~~

America had finally cleared away 50 players. The 50th player went down with a bang. What scared the secret American was how hard it was to knock him down. He couldn't be struggling already...not at the midway point. Then again, America had been getting steadily better at the game. Better than he had been going in. Maybe he could try learning their styles and figuring out more hidden weak spots. They're getting better at hiding their strategies.

Then again, Russia was always good at hiding his strategies and he was never good against him.

The Russian teens begrudgingly left the building, America following close behind. He didn't want Ivan catching him out the door like he's been doing the past couple of days. The American didn't know if beating this would bring Russia back, whether he was just transformed into that teenaged Tetris champion, or was apart of something else entirely. Like...maybe trapped inside the game? He didn't want to think about how little he knew. For all America knew, he could be doing something was an entire waste of his time. There weren't any hints of anything anywhere.

He disappeared back out into Moscow. America had managed to find someone to transfer his USD into rubles, which apparently equated to a nice and tidy amount. The American also realized that things here were either wicked expensive or wicked cheap. Slum area motels work in a pinch, for him. Survival in big cities was always a skill that the world-traveling countries had. America was no exception. He wasn't homeless, so take that, Ivan.

"Ack!" America ran into someone while heading to his tiny apartment room. Just his luck, he ran into Ivan Braginsky.

"Ah, Alik, a pleasure to meet you again so soon," Ivan smiled in a mocking way. It made America feel like he was expecting him.

"Do not tell me you have been stalking me, Ivan," America grumbled. This kid was starting to get more annoying than Russia somedays. Sure, Russia was getting better at not doing that, but, despite the resemblance and vague personality, Ivan Braginsky was not Russia. It felt weird to confirm that in his head, considering that was the Russian's human name and all.

"I have done nothing of the sort," he blinked his violet eyes childishly, "I just so happened to run into you," the human, Russian teen looked around the slums, "Do you live among this...wasteful area?"

"Wasteful or not, it is still Moscow," America smirked, "Are you saying that parts of Moscow are wasteful?"

"You are twisting my words, Alik," Ivan narrowed his eyes in a sneer, "Moscow is the capital of the most powerful country in the world, as you know. At least we have fewer flaws than the American pigs."

America bit back the string of choice words that threatened to rise up the back of his throat. Oh, right, they were in the Cold War, right now. How America would love to just blurt out that Russia basically loses to America due to bankruptcy. Of course, no one really 'lost' in the Cold War; they just called off a truce, since one side was unable to continue. Russia had later dropped his communist government when he realized that he didn't have enough resources, nor able to produce enough fast enough (due to his refusal and delay into the Industrial Revolution), to provide for his population. 

But America, let alone, Alik, couldn't-shouldn't-tell him that, "We do not know that," he said simply, trying to keep his words in riddles, even though he sounds suspicious. He couldn't just let this kid insult him in front of his very own face. Such irony, "I saw in the papers that this war might be coming to an end soon," it's the year 1986, right? There were basically five years left.

"Do not believe everything that you believe in newspapers. That is what my father told me," Ivan recited obediently.

However, the mention of Ivan even having a parental figure sat uncomfortably in America's mind. More and more Ivan was starting to sound like a fixed part of this alternate universe. It doesn't sound like he's from America's time at all, "Nevermind that," he brushed it off, "What are you doing out here in the slums, to begin with? Surely you did not just...wander off deep into this area, did you?"

"No, of course not," Ivan huffed irritatingly. However, he glanced away in embarrassment, refusing to look at him.

America quirked an amused brow at this, "You are a rich boy, yes?" the American could just feel that smirk sliding on his face, "I would not imagine someone like you wandering around in a place like this. Furthermore, you do not seem to be the type to get lost," he chuckled at Ivan's glare, "Admit it, kid, you were looking for me."

"So what if I am looking for you? You have been suspicious since the beginning!" the Russian teen retorted, "I know not of your surname, your family, your motives, your relations, nothing! I know, my father knows, about everyone in Moscow. He can even find about you slum-living peasants. But I cannot find anything about you."

Wow. So he went to his father to find out more information on him. Luckily he wasn't in the system or else the information about his USD to rubles transaction or his personal history (he wasn't always homeless, duh) would definitely put a lot of fire on him, "Ivan, what did I say about knowing anything about me?" he didn't want to believe that this wasn't somehow Russia. America had been seeing if he had some kind of reaction to him. Hints that Ivan knows more than he thinks. America's style in Tetris. His bomber jacket (which he hadn't removed from his waist, who knows who'd see it), his face. Ivan hadn't given any indication that he recognized him from the past.

"All you have said is that I should not bother and that I know more than I actually know," Ivan grumbled, "That does not make any sense, Alik. I have never met you before."

America peered at Ivan above the lens of his glasses, letting his cerulean eyes stare hard into Ivan's violet ones, "Are you sure about that?"

~~~~~

"I am telling you, Ivan, I cannot find anything about this Alik person," Ivan's father growled at his persistent son. Honestly, why is he bothering him so much about a homeless peasant? Albeit, a homeless peasant that he could find literally nothing about.

"Does that not sound suspicious in the least, father?" Ivan pressed on. He had these eerie feelings about Alik. Some that were starting the make more sense as they continued to find nothing. But somewhere in his heart, he didn't want that suspicion to be true. He wanted to find something, anything, that would prove that he had some kind of tie-down here in Russia.

He didn't want to hear that Alik was really an American spy.

It made sense. Alik looked like a picture-perfect image of an American. He was loud, expressive, and seemed to be straight out of an American magazine. Ivan would never expect Americans to be so attractive and warm. Americans just weren't like that. They were supposed to be obnoxious, greedy loudmouths that would do anything to get what they want, like take away their perfect lives here in Mother Russia. That's what Americans are...aren't they?

"Listen, boy," his father grunted, taking a serious voice, "I do not know about this Alik friend of yours. More and more he is sounding like a trespasser in the streets of Moscow. Does he seem the least bit suspicious to you?"

Why did his father think he was asking about him in the first place? However, "I...no, father, he seems like a normal citizen of Russia. It's just...he does not go to my school, he looks too well-kept to be homeless but lives out in the slums. I do not understand him, father, and he plans to leave after our little...tournament."

"You seem too well invested in figuring out about this competition," his father mused, "It was Tetris you boys are playing, yes? Defeating him should be easy."

"That is what I had originally thought," Ivan mumbled, "He is better than what I had imagined."

Ivan's father fixed his son with a hard look, "When has that ever stopped a Braginsky in competition? You should be eager for the challenge. Defeat this challenger with an iron fist, Ivan. I will hear of nothing less. Now, stop bothering me about trivial worries and let me work. You will be fine, understand?"

Ivan looked like he was about to say something. He swallowed his words and sinking heart as he nodded, "Yes, father."

The young Russian was driven to school where his 'friends' and other classmates flocked around and casually talked amongst themselves. Girls adored him for his looks, physique, and money. Boys stuck to him for the girls and protection rights. It was like being the boss of a gang without any official gang to be heard of. However, actual gangs knew to steer clear of Ivan Braginsky or anyone of his court.

The court that Ivan had is secretly famous in his school. They are called by the first row of a chessboard side; King, Queen, two Bishops, two Knights, two Rooks, and everyone else was Pawns. Ivan had reigned a long time as a King without a Queen. The Queen didn't have much power unless Ivan would allow her any. However, since none of the girls here seem appealing, he doesn't have one. 

The rest of the main court is for his Tetris games. The two players beneath him are his bishops, his closest confidants if he could even call them that. The two beneath them are his Knights, however, he lost one of them when they moved to another part of Russia. He plans on maybe sliding Alik as a Knight. Then there are the two Rooks and all of the Pawns. The students at school who weren't even apart of his Tetris obsession knew about this and their status as Pawns. No one would cross anyone from the immediate court unless they didn't value their social standing and/or livelihood.

However, many people were fighting for either the empty Knight and Queen spot. It had suddenly dawned on Ivan that if Alik's good enough, he might take his King spot. No, no, he wanted him to be good enough to be in his court, but if he was very good, he'd probably knock someone out of their spot. Maybe he'd knock one of his Bishops into that empty Knight spot and just stay there.

No, wait, what about that Queen spot that has never been filled?

His thoughts were interrupted by a throng of girls asking about his day and whatnot. Ivan brushed them all aside and headed to his first class. All he wanted was this day to get over with and to see Alik. Maybe he could pry a couple of facts about him or this mysterious friend of his. What if his friend was American? What if this other person was brainwashing him into his capitalistic ways? The thought dawned on him. Alik could just be a Russian being heavily influenced by an American spy! Ivan knew he didn't have much evidence to support this, but it was a possibility! He mentally made a plan in his head as he went about his not-so-monotone day. Things were about to get interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch as my chapters start to slowly get longer~  
I have no idea why the endnotes of the previous chapter tacks itself onto the current one...I just dunno...  
Tell me what you think!


	5. Halfway Point

All day, America had been worrying about if he was doing things right. Ivan didn't have much of a mysterious appearance in Russia as he would've thought. If Ivan had suddenly appeared in Russia with no connections, like his apparently wealthy family, his school, and even his accomplishments that America had managed to hear about after a couple of drinks at the bar, he'd feel more confident he was doing things right. However, he was a well-known son of a rich and famous man in Russia. Well, maybe not Joseph Stalin-famous, but was very rich and prestigious.

Then again, this was another dimension or something. He knew Ivan Braginsky wasn't a human, Russian teen who spent the majority of his days during the Cold War going to school and playing Tetris. No, Ivan Braginsky was the personification of the Russia Federation, in this time period, the USSR, the Soviet Union. His manor probably wouldn't even be here. America didn't want to think about how this world just didn't have personifications, period. It just sounded weird in his head. Maybe there's a different personification for Russia? Maybe Russia's actually female this time?

He shook his head and sat up from his mangy cot. America did clean up his small room, making it look much more presentable than he was originally given. Just as he was about to leave to go to the Tetris tournament, he was stopped by the landlord of his apartment.

"Alik, just caught you on your way, thank goodness," he sighed in relief. This middleaged man was much nicer than the others in this harsh environment. That was one of the main reasons why he chose this place, "I am sorry to spring this on you, but today is the day to pay your rent."

"Ah? No problem, please wait just a moment," America went back into his tidy room and pulled out a ragged box that was here previously. He pulled out a couple of rubles from his exchanged USD and handed them to the landlord, "Here you are."

"Thank you, sire," he nodded his head in thanks. The landlord took a good long look around his room, noting the cleanliness of the place. He turned back to America, "Alik, my boy, you certainly take care of yourself."

"What?" America turned his head after he stowed away his box, "Oh, my room? Well, the state of it was...reasonable, when I first received it. I just tidied it up a little."

"You did a mighty good job," the landlord praised, "Pray to tell, do you have a job, young man?"

America shifted uncomfortably. He was probably going to be late to the tournament and knew that Ivan was gonna give him heck. However, now that he thought about it, America didn't know how long he was going to be trapped here. The money that he had now would only take him so far for shelter and food. Sure, he was living quite minimal, which he didn't mind, but having a little more just in case he was going to be staying here longer, wouldn't hurt, "No, I do not."

The landlord smiled, "Then how about you work housekeeping for the residence here? It would definitely attract more customers here and your pay just might increase."

"That would be nice," America imagined getting only a couple of rubles, at best, but with what he has now, he's not so worried. Besides, he might not even be working here long, "When do I start?"

~~~~~

"I am sorry that I had gotten here late," America apologized with a bright smile on his face, hoping that it would make up for him being, well, late.

Ivan, however, wasn't amused, "I expect that you take this a bit more seriously, Alik. I would not want the other players to get a little temper for you treating this so casually."

"Oh, do not worry, I am taking this as seriously as I can," Ivan just doesn't know how serious America's taking this. He was the hero, so he had to be the one to get them out of here. Besides, Russia's kinda stuck in the mind and body of a teenager, right now. Or that's what he's hoping.

America settled into his well-worn seat and readied his fingers on the keyboard. He stared at the familiar screen of the Tetris game as the neon colors bore into his retinas. Honestly, he was going to get sick of this game once this was done and over with. The other player sat next to America, cracking his knuckles confidently. The other students haven't done that before, which amused America a little. So, he waved out his sleeves, snapping out his arms before bringing his callused hands and popping the joints much louder than the opponents'. He glared at the secret American in annoyance. America just merrily smiled and the games began once again.

...About a couple of more players into the round, America started noticing something about his screen. Now, the American hadn't really played on the other computer before. He just sat at this one and play against whoever sat in the other seat. Apparently, this was the seat that Ivan usually sat in, whenever he played against another. That wasn't important to him before, but now he started seeing something that almost made his fingers knot.

"Ah-" America quickly corrected his finger placements, knocking down some rows on accident in the process. He didn't want to look at Ivan's face to confirm that he had, indeed, made a mistake. An easily correctable mistake, sure, but he didn't want them knowing that he made one. They'll milk it for all its worth.

He was in the middle of playing against the 59th player and, there, he saw it. At the top right-hand corner of the computer's black-boarder screen was an extremely faint, barely visible print of numbers and letters. It was only a couple of lines and the game wasn't going too fast, so America tried to sneak closer looks at the grayish lines, attempting to read what they said.

'Player; Ivan Braginsky'  
'Round; 59'  
'Tag Team; Alfred F. Jones'

America's heart nearly stopped. 

He didn't know what surprised him more, seeing his human name blatantly there for all to see, or the fact that it was in English. Thankfully, he was saved by the other player struggling from keeping his blocks down and they hit the top of the board. He had lost all of his lives and lost. Standing up angrily in anger, he whirled around and grabbed America by the shirt collar. The American quickly rose from his chair, while he was exiting out of the game due to his proclaimed win. He didn't want this guy to know how strong he was...just yet.

"You think you are so good, ah?" he growled mockingly, laughing with no humor, "Once you fall, you fall for good. Do you understand? For good!"

At first, America wanted to lash back at this sore loser for making such a big deal about it, when the only person it was a big deal about was him. However, something in the back of America's brain made him really contemplate that threat. What if that was this universe's way of saying that if he fails one round, there's no other chance? "...I understand."

The 59th player whirled around in a huff, storming out of the building. The other Russians, who were watching the scene unfold in front of them, slowly turned back to one another, whispering amongst themselves. America quickly glanced back at his Tetris screen, and there, he saw that the 'Round' line had changed its number from '59' to '60'. He bets that's for tomorrow.

Now he has some reassurance.

It would make sense that the name 'Ivan Braginsky' would be on this computer. It's the computer he competes against others with. The 'Round; 60' would be a bit odd, seeing a 'round counter' there, when there hasn't been one before (the only rounds that have been played were those 60 that America just did). But the 'Tag Team' line? Final nail, right there, in the coffin. No one in all of this universe's 1986 Soviet Union, Mother Russia, USSR, whatever, knows America's human name. He just hopes that no one else sees that.

People started filing out of the building, leaving America pondering in front of the computer screen. Shutting them both off, he turned on his heel and began to head out. That was until he connected heads with Ivan. 

The two recoiled back, pressing their palms to their foreheads. America was still getting used to seeing him at eye level, instead of Russia being almost a head taller than him, "S-Sorry about that, Ivan," America shook his head. He gained control of his swimming head, "I was not watching where I was going. I will see you tomorrow?"

Before America could successfully brush Ivan off, the teen grabbed America's arm, "Alik," he fixed him with a serious and somewhat persuading smile, "You and I will go to my place, yes?"

America blinked in confusion, halfway processing the boy's words, "...What? I am sorry, I did not catch-"

"You-" the boy softly jabbed a pale digit to America's chest, "-and I-" he points to himself, "-my house. Understand now?"

"I..." the nation faltered, "Why? Why am I going to your house? How long will I be staying there?" in itself, this sounded like a bad idea, but...

Ivan was tugging America by the arm, not entirely answering his question. When the exited the building, America saw him take out a key ring from his pocket and locked the door shut behind him. A plan started forming in his head. That computer with his human name on it, he should probably take a closer look at it. However, he needs those keys to get inside. He decided to let Ivan take him wherever he was going, nab the keys, check out the computer...uh, leave the keys inside? Who was going to go inside of a child's video game room? Then America was going to go home...rest...get ready for work tomorrow. Man, he was really living in Soviet Russia, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this one is kinda shorter, even though I said they'd be longer. However, the next one might be longer than usual, but we'll see, yeah? I have the plot all out, don't worry...I think ^^;. I'm almost done with the next chapter, so maybe expect something tonight or tomorrow. I'm trying my best!
> 
> Tell me what you think! No, seriously, a comment would be nice~


	6. The Braginsky Family

"Here we are," Ivan announced casually as they pulled up to the massive manor. America stepped out of his spot in the car, to turn towards the face of the house.

America's eyes widened in a shocked gape.

"This is the Braginsky Manor. It has been passed down for a couple of generations, so it's a bit turn-of-the-century. I hope you like it," the Russian spoke jadedly but was milking the expression that Alik had.

However, America wasn't gawking at the house for its size and its prestige. He could get that anywhere. No, it was because this manor is the Russian Manor. Russia's house. The pathway and gates were different, along with some vegetation and botany, but this was definitely his house from real life. He wondered if the layout and room occupation were the same...including maybe some secret passages and exits that he could potentially use.

America was ushered inside the house along with Ivan. Maids were walking around cleaning and taking care of chores, preferably out of the little lord's way. This place felt so...heavy. It feels as though the atmosphere was going to strangle him if he didn't walk with his back straight and his manners crisp. He followed the young teen a little way into the foyer until they were greeted by a middle-aged man coming down the grand stairs.

"You are home, Ivan," the tall figure announced bluntly, almost like Ivan. America noticed that he looked eerily like a younger version of General Winter. His eyes were a piercing, icy blue, instead of his normal flash of white.

"I am, father," Ivan responded back properly. He gestured at hand at America, "This is the person I have been telling you about. May he stay here for some time? Just for the afternoon."

Where Ivan was much easier to read his facial expressions in this dimension, his father was much harder. America had only met General Winter a couple of times, during his most frigid winters, and confronted him once. He felt a chill go up to his spine when his eyes met his icy blue ones. Out of habit with dealing with his alternate wintry entity self, America kept a hard stare at the man, refusing to break contact. 

Ivan's father examined this Alik from afar, taking in his slightly rugged and disheveled appearance, before waving his hand, "He may stay for the afternoon. However, he will need to be cleaned before he can attend dinner, understand?"

"The servants can offer their services to him, father," Ivan nodded, keeping his eyes down as his father leaves. 

When he does, America was pulled by Ivan to what he already knew was his room. The walk there was the same. The hallways and corridors were the same. In fact, judging by the direction of where Mr. Braginsky went, he's probably in Russia's office. He's been in Russia's house many times, but when he looked around it, it felt like he hadn't been in it for such a long time.

"Please, step inside," the teen offered, allowing him in where nearly no one else went.

America took in the familiar layout of Ivan's room. It was almost exactly like Russia's. There were sunflowers in some places that America was smart enough not to comment on. The bed still had its red covers, the hardwood floors had their oriental rugs, his old dresser, and drawers. Everything was almost the same, except, instead of a plasma flatscreen TV and consoles, there was an IBS computer on an old wooden desk and an old wooden chair. 

Ivan saw him just stare at it for a bit too long, "Do you want to play a game on it?"

"What?" America snapped out of his thoughts and turned to where Ivan was sitting on his bed, "Tetris?" Ivan nodded as if 'what else was going to be on it, game-wise?', "Who would I play against?"

"No, just by yourself."

The American hesitated at that. While he loved that he was steadily getting better at the game, he didn't want Ivan to know how good at the game he was. But, why, though? He didn't want him to cancel the tournament because he's scared of Alik's playing abilities? No, maybe more on Ivan training himself to become an even harder opponent. America already had a bad feeling that Ivan's playing skills are either very close or exactly like Russia's. Yeah, he still didn't know if he should consider this Russian, human teen as Russia, himself, yet.

"...No, it is your computer," America shook his head with a lopsided grin, "It would be more fitting if you play only on your computer."

The boy quirked a pale brow at his friend. Could he even call him that, even? No matter. Ivan stood up and turned on the computer, sitting down, then gesturing him to come near, "How about I show you a little preview, yes?"

America walked up to his desk, peering down at the computer in confusion, "Preview?"

"I have basically seen what kind of player you are and what you can do," wrong, America hasn't shown them tricks that he's learned in his world and...the more recently learned ones, "It would be unfair if you did not see me play. You should see what you will be up against."

"If I manage to get up to you," America chuckled, "Besides, I saw you play once when I first entered the building."

"I would not be so doubtful. You do have a high chance of beating the others."

"That is what everyone thinks. Entertain the thought."

Ivan gives him a weird look, "Entertain...what?"

"How about you boot up that game, yes?" America diverted the teen's attention to the empty screen of the computer. He watched him click on Tetris and watched the game slowly load up on the screen.

Ivan loaded up a game began to play through the normal one player like it was created to do. America watched him with a concentrated gaze. Had this been in his normal day and age, he'd probably be cheering Russia on, screaming, whooping, jeering, or maybe even getting distracted if the gameplay was too tame. This time, he watched the game with a solemn look upon his face. Ivan was entirely captivated by the task at hand. America knew that because he was playing exactly like Russia. 

This block goes here. This one goes there. The block would only have to hover in the air for a short amount of time before he had adjusted it and insta-dropped it down. Lines cleared away in an instant and it was almost like the blocks were never going to reach the top. Everything had an order and a pattern, slotting together in their segregated spots. The game was almost perfect. America wondered how he was ever going to defeat him if he couldn't even defeat Russia in this game. 

It was at that time that America realized something about Ivan's game. Out of random curiosity, the blonde's eyes started wandering across the screen. They suddenly landed on the upper right-hand corner, where America's three lines were on the other computer. There sat three lines of barely visible dialogue, like on the one in the building. 

'Player; Alfred F. Jones'  
'Round; 11201'  
'Tag Team; Ivan Braginsky'

Those three, glorious, English, human-name proclaiming lines were right there, once again, only a little different. The 'Player Name' line and the 'Tag Team' one had their human names switched. The 'Round' line had a big number in it. This interested America, for there, is no reason for this computer to even have a round option. Ivan's personal computer isn't involved in their Tetris tournament, so there are no rounds to speak of. America had yet to figure out why his name was in the 'Player' spot with that 'Round' number when his number of rounds is on the other computer with Ivan's name in the 'Player' line. What even did 'Tag Team' mean?

"I can never get past Level 30," Ivan sighed, standing up from his computer, "Then again, no one has been able to. The blocks will start moving too fast to adjust and they will stack up instantly. It is an impossible level."

"What?" America blinked at his words.

"Level 30 is impossible, Alik, do not even try to attempt it," the teen spoke bluntly, shutting his computer off, "So, what did you think?"

Level 30 was impossible for him? That didn't make sense. America beat Level 30 in his first couple of rounds with the original version, and this incarnate-kinda of Russia was saying it was impossible? When did anything in Tetris become close to impossible for Russia?

But, first, the question at hand, "You are very professional in your craft," America spoke carefully, "Very precise. Very specific."

"You need to be when you are playing this game," Ivan quirked a brow at him, "Using patterns within the game and making ones yourself are keys to victory wherein Tetris."

The American wasn't very sure he agreed on that, but since this was the professional, he probably should listen. This is all for getting out of here, is all. He never would've imagined that he'd be paying so very close attention to a Soviet in the playings of Tetris. But if he wants to figure out how to get out of this world, this place, this game, he'll need to figure out what he has to do.

More and more, America started disregarding how he got here, in the first place.

~~~~~

Ivan had servants come up to his room to tailor America some proper clothes. America gave himself a mental pat on the back for leaving his bomber jacket at home, which was laying on his meager bed. They inspected his dirty and wrinkled slacks and white button-up with slight confusion and distaste. America heard them mumbling something under the lines of that he must've been a somewhat wealthy man, then fell off of the hierarchy. He noticed that Ivan heard it, too.

It was a little while later before America found himself in a fashionable three-piece suit. It was a velvety navy blue with pale sky colors mingling with black accents. The gold buttons and cufflinks made this outfit out to match his blue eyes and blonde hair. It made him feel like he was about to go out to eat instead of stay at Ivan's home. They combed back his hair and had him wash his hands and face beforehand. Sliding on his wiped glasses and polished shoes, America stared at himself in the mirror, thinking that this almost looked like he was about to head to a normal party back at his place. Almost.

America fiddled with the small but significant Soviet Union emblem on the lapel of his suit jacket. The sight of it made his stomach churn and his head feel heavy. He never imagined that he'd be wearing it, but here he was. It means nothing to him, he reminded himself, they'll lose in the Cold War, I know what's going to happen.

"You look better in that than in those ratty clothes," Ivan complimented proudly. Proudly, for what reason, America didn't know. Sure, the clothes were of much more greater quality, but the golden Soviet Union badge ruined the whole dress up, even if the gold did match with the rest of the outfit.

"Thank you, I suppose," America muttered trying to hide his distaste.

Violet eyes raked over America's body and expression, "You do not like it."

"Ah, no, I am just not used to wearing things like this. Very...snug. Form-fitting," come to think of it, it was really showing off his butt and hips. He wondered if that was on purpose or not. 

"Yes, it holds your form nicely," Ivan complimented, "You usually do not wear warm clothing, so I told them you were naturally warm."

"I am," the blonde quirked a brow at him, "Then why am I wearing a three-piece suit to a family dinner? Are you having other relatives coming to eat?" like maybe his sisters? He wonders if he has any sisters in this world, "Do you not have sisters attending the meal as well?"

"Sisters?" the teen tilted his head to the side, "Where did you hear that I had sisters?"

"What?" America's head whirled around with a face of shock, "You...oh, I just heard..." he trailed off. What was he going to say? Maybe he was withholding information, which he could understand, "I just heard that you had sisters, for some reason. Sorry for having the wrong information."

"You were looking for information about me, but you do not allow me to find things of you?" the ashen-blonde narrowed his eyes little, not enough for the other to see. He noticed how perspective he is of him and only him...

"Well, I did not purposefully search that piece of misguided information about you," well, America wasn't really lying. He just knew when he first met them, since when he met Russia, he spoke of his sisters and he got to meet them in person later, "I just overheard it while at a bar," that part was a lie, though.

"People speak of me in bars? How peculiar," Ivan didn't believe him, but things would come to light tonight. He would make sure of it. If he didn't, his father would, but he hoped that it didn't come to that. Ivan knew what his father would do if Alik ended up being what he feared he was. The teen was hoping that Alik was influenced by a third party. After all, there were very little things that he knew of Alik's one piece of personal life, the friend that he had gotten into a fight with, then later was taught by how to play Tetris.

"That is why you should not go out supervised into the slums, young man," America chuckled. So, the boy was getting smarter. He needed to be more careful. America knew he could do that.

It's surprised him, being able to stay this calm and collected even when this human version of Russia was now trying to actively figure him out. It was probably because, in his heart, he truly felt that this wasn't really Russia. That thought also scares him. If his instincts were so strong that they canceled out his worries and fears about this teen, then where was Russia? Was he even in here? America didn't want to leave without him if he managed to find a way out...

"Mister Ivan," a servant bowed into the room, "Allow me to escort you and Mister Alik to the dining hall."

"You may," Ivan nodded curtly to the servant, a little put out by their interruption. But that didn't matter, for he was going to get him to say something before he leaves this house.

~~~~~

Ivan and America walked inside the dining room. It was quite obvious, to the people in the room, that 'Alik' wasn't used to eating in a rich man's environment. Why, his head would swivel around, eyes catching everything in the room. He was truly a childish man.

"Ivan," his father said curtly. There were a couple of relatives seated at the somewhat empty, long dining table. They, too, curiously acknowledge the presence of Ivan's companion.

"A pleasure to see all of you again," Ivan responded smoothly, knowing the ropes about these greetings, "This is my companion, Alik. We play Tetris together and he has quite the hand at the game."

"Is that one of you children's new favorite toys?" an elderly man rasps at one side of the table. America didn't recognize him as any of the nations he knew. A real anchor to this world.

"It is a video game, Uncle Viktor," Ivan clarified as he sat down, motioning America to sit next to him, "It came out only a couple of years ago. Very new."

"Already a master at such trivial things?" the uncle grumbled, "Typical child."

"He is growing up, Vitya," a woman, who was sitting next to Ivan's father/General Winter, "He may tire of these games as he has for others. Now, Ivan, we are very curious as to who this interesting friend of yours might be?" America didn't like how the woman leaned forward in her chair and batted her lashes at him. He knew that look all too well from past experiences with his citizens trying to come on him.

"As I said, mother," Mother...?! This lady was his mother? Now that he took a better look at her, she did have Ivan's violet eyes, but had darker hair, "His name is Alik, and-"

"Yes, yes, child, I know," she waved him off impatiently, "I was hoping the poor man can speak for himself. Tell us about yourself, dear."

She was suddenly cut off by her husband who sat next to her with a wintry expression. The rest of the dining hall gazed at the exchange uncomfortably. America heard them muttering about how unbecoming the wife was but shrugged it off due to how rich her side of the family was. He didn't know if he was disgusted or pitiful because of this new piece of information. However, Ivan's father gave America a begrudging nod for him to continue.

"My...name is Alik," he started, suddenly not wanting to talk, "There are not many interesting things about me. Ivan told you all of those interesting things."

"Aw, is that truly all?" the mother whined, "Surely there is more to you than what you say," her violet eyes brightened up, "What is your family name? What is your life outside of my son's silly games? Do you have a good heritage? Any likes? Dislikes? Are you from around here? Why, I do not believe I have seen such a wonderful man around here before."

It suddenly dawned on America about why they're letting this lady talk to him. She was persuasive, talkative, probably had many men wrapped around her finger. A flirt and probably a cheat, as well. It also was obvious that she wasn't very well-liked by the family. However, unfortunate for them, he was stronger than that, "My family is very different," that was an understatement, "I work as a housekeeper for an apartment," and as the personification of the country Russia's at war with, "I would like to say I have good heritage," like they could only dream of, "I like...Tetris," they knew that. It was an acceptable answer, "I don't like...hmm, I don't like..." he spat out the first thing that came to mind, "Scones. I don't like scones. So, there, that's all about me."

"A housekeeper?" that was the first time Ivan heard that one, "You never mentioned you were a housekeeper Alik."

"I would like to say it as a more eloquent way to say 'maid', I suppose," America smirked, "It's a new job. I get paid decently."

"Your family name," the uncle gruffed, "You are avoiding my sister's question."

"Ah, that," the uncle didn't like how relaxed 'Alik' said that. Much arrogance was in his voice when in reality, America was slightly panicking inside. This wasn't a dinner, it was an interrogation. The other members of the table gazed on intensely, wanting to know more about this elusive person.

"Well?" a younger man prompted, who America could only assume was a cousin or another uncle of some sort, "You seem very suspicious."

"What a thing to assume after we have just met, ladies and gentlemen," America pulled a mildly surprised face. As much as he was being wary and careful about his words, this was still kinda amusing, "I answered your questions to the best of my ability."

"You did not answer my sister's first question, boy," the uncle glared, "You might not be a good influence to our Ivan."

Not even a 'Vanya', huh, "Like I said," his cerulean eyes narrowed in seriousness, "I answered...to the best of my ability," he said, stressing his words in a certain fashion.

It took the whole room a couple of seconds to let America's made-up meaning to sink in. America, well, Alik was implying that he didn't have a last name. He had no family name and probably didn't live with his family. They could only imagine that wherever he worked wasn't even of the more decent conditions.

"A peasant," one muttered.

"He looks much to fine for such," another murmured, "Must have fallen from the ranks."

"Do you remember your original name, boy?" Ivan's father eyed the young man in a new light.

"Oh, it was nothing special, if that is what you are thinking," he fibbed, finding the intricate tablecloth interesting, "They are all very busy, anyway," wasn't that the truth. They were busy taking care of their roles as nations, states, capitals, and whatnot. They were like him.

"Oh, you poor young man," the mother cooed, "Your family must have been very neglectful."

America tried to push out the thoughts of England constantly leaving him alone and always being swamped with politics as to not being able to spend time with Canada, "I would not say that," his face, unfortunately, said otherwise.

Ivan, on the other hand, was very invested in the expressions and words that gave away things about his shrouded Alik. So his family had abandoned him. How interesting.

"Do you have nowhere to go?" she pried with a sickly sweet tone.

The sugar was wasted on America's ears. He didn't talk about his person abandonment even in real life, "Even I have somewhere to go. I have survived by myself for the longest time. Do not assume so much about me."

Apparently, distracted from their interrogation, the servers had placed all of their food down in amidst of their talking. America hesitated as they all sat silent, not even whispering about his disrespect to the heads of the house. Breathing a short sigh, he picked up his knife and fork, something he's learned before his series of abandonment, and started eating the steak set in front of him.

~~~~~

The meal went by uneventfully after that. The wife was casting him longing gazes, which, after a while, America gave her an annoyed glare that finally made her give up. Ivan had never seen him glare at anything besides the game screen. He looked extremely agitated and wanted nothing more than to get his normal clothes back and leave this house. Ivan was a little saddened at that thought.

When the meal ended, Ivan's visiting relatives gave America an awkward farewell, except for Uncle Viktor, who stopped in front of him as he was about to leave, "Listen, to me, boy," he started, "You are a strong man, even I can see that. Whatever you are going through, do not do it alone," he leaned in and grabbed America by the shoulders, "I do not know who you are, but I know that the motherland has her flaws. Not everyone agrees with what she's been through. But if you dare hurt my nephew, you will not live to leave this country."

America didn't know whether to stiffen in fear or breathe a sigh of relief. This man wasn't as communist and Soviet as the rest of his family. He was letting America go. However, he did know that America was definitely different than the average Russian, but wasn't immediate harm to the family, specifically to Ivan.

"I do not know if there is anyone here whom I can trust," he murmured back, "but I have no intention of hurting Ivan, nor will I ever."

"You do not know to trust or there is no one here?"

America bit his lip, not sure of how to respond.

"...If you ever need a place to go to," Uncle Viktor discreetly slips a piece of paper in his pocket, "Do not hesitate to come to me."

With that, he patted America on the shoulders and headed into his car, then drove off into the sunsetting streets. The cerulean eyes of the tired nation gazed off where the man's car went with a look of listlessness. 

Ivan walked up to where Alik was still standing just outside the door, watching his uncle's car drive away. The glow to the sunset cast upon his golden locks and made his pretty blue eyes sparkle. However, there was a look of sad musing on his face. Shaking his head, he flexed out his sleeves and walked away from the house. Ivan just stood there and didn't say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'll need to change the tags after this ^^;)  
Hey! You got to meet the Braginskys and see a little foreshadowing. Yeah, there are going to be a couple of OC characters that will play a certain part in this, watch. I think this chapter is a little longer? What do you guys think?
> 
> Tell me what you think! The comment section feels kinda empty...
> 
> And cookies for who can tell me the significance to the Round number and perhaps why that number was chosen~


	7. Found Him

America walked down the dimmed, but still somewhat busy streets of Moscow. The night sky was obscured by the lights of the streetlamps and the clouds that started sprinkling snow across the landscape. In his hand, he fiddled with the building key that he snatched from Ivan's room. Hurrying briskly in the cold air toward the building they held their games at, he huddled around the keyhole and unlocked the door. Heading inside, firmly closing the door behind him, America sighed. He really should think about buying a coat or something. If it were to start snowing hard, his natural warmth won't be able to keep up that fast.

Rubbing his arms, he tried looking around for a light switch or something. America couldn't find one, but the light from the streets outside illuminated the darkroom a little. Just enough to see the two IBM computers sitting side by side on the table in the back of the room. The blonde walked up and sat down at the computer he normally sat at, turning it on.

He waited for a minute before the screen finally whirled to life, then waiting for more time for everything to load. He allowed himself a groan. He forgot how slow these things were. After impatiently waiting for the Tetris game to load, America skimmed the screen for the three lines at the top left-right corner. True enough, there they were, in all of their cryptic English glory. It appeared that you didn't have to be in the actual game to see those lines; just the start screen. America moved the mouse (huh, this model even had a mouse) and clicked one of the lines.

Suddenly the screen blacked out. America panicked for a second, thinking the game either crashed or he broke the computer. After a few seconds, a bright, white line of English text scrolled across the center of the screen.

**What is the safeword?_**

The blonde stared at the sentence with confusion. Safeword? Doesn't it mean 'password'? Even if it was asking for a password, he didn't have anything to use. America swallowed down his stress. Okay. There had to be a reason why it said 'safeword' instead of 'password'. Even Russia used the word 'пароль' (parol' = 'password') for codes he needed to use to gain access, back in the day. This thing also had his name on it, so it has to be directed at him, right? Did America know any safewords?

"Wait a minute," he gasped in English.

He did know a safeword. During the time of the Cold War, he and Russia made a joke about their battle, people calling it a 'lover's quarrel'. They made up a joking safeword during that time. Placing his hands on the worn clacky keyboard, he typed...

**Перестройка_**

...The computer processed his line of text for only a second and cleared the screen, setting up new letters.

**Fredka, is that you?_**

America nearly cried at this, for a good reason and a bad reason. The good reason was that he had found Russia and was finally talking to him after weeks of searching. The bad news was...

**Russia?! Oh, my gosh, dude, where are you? How are you communicating to me??_**

**Fredka...I do not know what has happened entirely, but, please listen._**

**What? Do I need to go save you? Are you stuck in a gulag in Siberia or something?_**

**No, Fredka, I'm inside of the computer._**

Russia was trapped inside of the IBM computer. 

~~~~~

"Is there something troubling you, Alik?" the landlord questioned as he watched his new employee sweep the same spot on the floor for more than five minutes.

"Hm?" America slowly turned his head to the speaker, "What did you need?"

"No, none of that," the old man waved off, "Something is bothering you, child."

"No, no, I am fine," the blonde assured as he moved to a different spot of the floor to sweep.

"Then why were you sweeping in the same spot for more than a minute?"

"I do not think I was sweeping for that long-"

"Alik, your time has been up ten minutes ago."

That made America do a double-take, "What?" his eyes darted to the grandfather clock, "Oh...um-"

The landlord shook his head, then making a come-hither motion with his bony hand, "Come here, child."

After a moment of hesitation, America set his broom aside and walked up to the landlord's plush couch, taking a seat across from him. The landlord lived in a comfortable room attached to the apartments. It was older and many of the spots were very worn, but the oriental rugs, a dresser with a mirror, a plush couch and bed said otherwise.

"Inheritance," the landlord mused, catching America's curious eyes, "Did not buy nor earn any of it."

"Ah," was what the American said.

The old man cracked a smile, crinkling the corners of his eyes, "Now, tell me, what seems to be bothering you?"

"Nothing, sir," America insisted. Was he really spacing out that much? He was just thinking...thinking about... "I was just...thinking about yesterday."

"Hm," the elder hummed, "You did come back very late last night. Where did you go?"

A rich man's manor. Got invited by the kid. Very uncomfortable. The mother made him really uncomfortable. The uncle left him more questions than answers. The whole thing was a trap, they wanted to know everything- "Someplace," he finally said, "I...regret going there."

There was a worried and stern brow crease on the landlord's face, "You did not do something regrettable, did you?" he didn't peg Alik to be the type of person to condone in things like that.

"What? No, nothing of what you are thinking," the 'younger' clarified, "I just regret going. The people there...made me uncomfortable," he trailed off uneasily. He didn't want to talk about this. But, if he wanted to be honest with himself, "But I had to."

"Alik, my boy," the old man leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, "Never say that you need to do something if it makes you uncomfortable. They cannot force you to go or not."

Well. That wasn't exactly what America meant, but he was grateful for the consideration for his well-being, "I know," he said softly, "But there was something I..." something that he what? He couldn't just tell him that he stole a key, broke into a building, and found out that the personification of their country was trapped inside a-

** _You're trapped inside?! How are you inside the computer?!__ **

** _How did you get here?__ **

** _You left your console on with a Tetris game up and I wanted to practice a little! When I beat Level 30, the game sucked me in!__ **

** _You have beaten Level 30?__ **

** _Yeah, there's a human teenage version of you here that can't beat it.__ **

** _Fredka, you do not understand, I cannot-_ **

"...The visit was not worthless. Yes, I regret it to some extent," he wasn't much of a breaking-and-entering person unless the situation demanded it, "but otherwise, it had value."

** _What do you mean, you can't? You invented the game! If there's anyone who can, it should be you!__ **

** _I know, Fredka, but believe me, I have tried and have been unsuccessful.__ **

** _Then how are we going to get out of here?__ **

** _What do you mean?__ **

** _All this time I thought that teen version of you was really you and now I'm talking to you within a computer.__ **

** _What does that have to do with escaping?__ **

** _I thought if I could beat him like how I beat the game, the portal from the last game would open up again and suck both of us in and 'your' memories and self would come back.__ **

"Are you sure, Alik?" the landlord fretted, "You seem very drained and stressed. Believe me, the weight of your burdens will feel much lighter if you let them out. These walls are strong and I will not tell a soul."

** _But I am inside the computer. Does that make me the portal?__ **

**_I dunno, man, I really don't know and I'm so-_**

America felt his face unwillingly scrunch up, trying to swallow the lump in his throat, the heaving in his chest, the irregular thumping of his heart. He was stronger than this, wasn't he? He spent all of that pressure throughout being here, in this Soviet country, where communism was stripping away the people of Russia, where he was feeling the memories of his childhood bubble up like acidic bile in his throat...

** _Fredka, listen to me, I cannot do much on this computer. This is a day and age where technology is not very advanced. I do not know much about what has happened. I would love to keep talking to you.__ **

** _Me too, man, I've missed you like you wouldn't believe. How am I gonna be able to keep talking to you?__ **

** _You're using this computer, yes?__ **

** _Russia, man, this thing is locked in a building and used for the Tetris tournament. I had to snag a key to get inside here without people knowing.__ **

** _Tetris tournament?__ **

** _Yeah, your human self here runs a Tetris game with a hierarchy and everything. I figured if I would beat him, we could leave.__ **

** _I never realized. Apparently, I am not conscious of that.__ **

** _But that isn't gonna work, is it?__ **

"My boy?" the old man rose out of his seat and sat next to America. He saw the struggling look in the poor man's eyes as he tried not to cry. The elder knew that most days in this society that no man should cry, but he was one to think otherwise. In his mind, this young man probably went through something horrible long ago or just yesterday ago and there is nothing wrong with crying about it. He had a young son, himself, who would run to him and cry when others called him weak. The son is long dead by now, but Alik...he was just a boy.

Reaching out to him, he placed his old hand on Alik's back and rubbed in soothing circles, "It is alright to cry, Alik. You are safe here, everything will be alright."

** _We do not know that, Fredka. Breathe. I know you are hyperventilating. What happened to the optimistic Alfred that I knew?__ **

** _But we don't know how to get out of here! What if we're stuck here forever and we can't escape?!__ **

** _Fredka. Take a deep breath.__ **

America heaved a shaky breath in, as he leaned into the landlord's shoulder.

** _Breathe. Inhale. Exhale.__ **

He was trying to. He was trying to breathe right so bad, but his patterns came out in ragged huffs and desperate cries. Tears finally pricked on the corners of his eyes, spilling over his face. The old man held the miserable young man tight, rocking him back and forth as if he were his son. Adult or not, you can cry. There is nothing wrong with being emotional.

If only he knew why he felt like this.

** _Okay. Okay, Russia. Thanks, man, I'll find a way outta here.__ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun, dun, duuuuun! The plot thickens. XD. The story is getting heated up, people, look out. How will America get Russia out of the computer and get both of them home? Will they ever make it out? What will happen?? :0  
Find out when I am done typing up the next chapter and editing it! My fingers are on fire!  
(jk, jk, they're freezing off in the winter cold -v-;)
> 
> Tell me what you think! Comments are my encouragement and fuel! XD
> 
> Another cookie if you can tell me why the safeword is 'Перестройка'. XD It's a RusAme canonverse reference, to give you a hint.


	8. Prologue Plan to the Unfinished Plan

The landlord let him out early, seeing that he already took care of his job. America thanked him kindly, for he knew there was something else he had to do now. Since thinking up a plan now, with how scrambled his brain is about the subject, kind of wrecked, he decided to solve another problem that popped up in his mind. The key.

It would only be a matter of time for Ivan or somebody to realize that the key was missing. School was going to end soon and when they went to building only to figure out that the key is missing, someone's gonna talk. The only people that could've got possession of the key would be Ivan and now him. 

However, America needed the key to go back inside the building once night fell so he could talk to Russia. Looking at where the sun was (he had no watch and his phone was dead), he saw that he had only mere hours to find a way to replicate the key before Ivan and the rest of the competitors and spectators came to the Tetris competition. He was going to have to leave the key in front of Ivan's doorstep when he was done, of course, but now he needed a way to make a copy. If only there was a way to make a mold then cast it, he thought. Where could he go? He didn't know anyone here that he could-wait.

America fished around in his pants pocket and pulled out the ratty piece of folded paper that Ivan's Uncle Viktor slipped inside. Unfolding it with his red fingertips, he skimmed the Russian words and numbers written on the slip. It was an address to a remote area in the countryside of Moscow. America realized that he'll have to spend a little money and try his best to not freeze himself to...whatever was close to death, for him. Scraping up a good handful or rubles and stuffing them in his pocket, he headed back out into the cold streets of Moscow. 

~~~~~

It took America about half an hour to get where he needed to go. He paid the taxi just enough to get him out of the city and he basically jogged the whole way. This area was a bit hilly, but the running kept him warm. It felt good to feel that rush, considering that he wasn't wearing his bomber jacket for obvious reasons. He finally found a lone house in an outcrop of tall snow-filling trees. Winter was starting to pick up, he noticed.

Since it was the only house in the area, matching the address, America walked up and rapped the door.

"Who is there?" grouched out a rough voice on the other side.

America flinched. Maybe this wasn't the right house? "I...I need a favor...Viktor," he called out shakily. He didn't know if that was from the cold, his nerves, or both.

The door cracked open a peak and there Uncle Viktor stood, his single ice blue eye through the sliver widening in shock. He threw the door open, nearly hitting America, as he reached out and yanked him inside. Slamming the door behind him, he whirled back at the other, "Were you followed?"

"What? No? Was I supposed to make sure I was not-?"

"That does not matter. Did you feel like you were being followed?"

"I..." America racked his brain. Did it feel like he was being followed? Was this place supposed to be a secret? Good thing he just told the taxi guy to just drive up northeast, "No, I am alright."

Viktor scrutinized America's face before relaxing a fraction, "Good," he motioned America to sit in front of the warm fire with him. The two did and Viktor offered him what America could easily smell was vodka, "Now, what seems to be the problem?"

America silently declined the vodka, "Do you know how to make molds and cast them?"

Viktor gave him a peculiar look, "You need something to be cast?"

"Yes, it is important."

"What is it?"

The blonde pulled the slightly rusted and well-worn key to the old building, "This one. I just need a sturdy key that I can use on multiple occasions. I hope," he cut himself off. Best not to drag Viktor too far into this, "...I just need a good key replica."

Viktor took the key from America's offered hand and turned it around with his callused palms, "This is a...very interesting key."

America leaned forward in confusion, "Weird? It is just a normal key, is it not?"

"What building is this key for?"

"What building?" America racked his memory if he ever looked up and saw a sign for it or something, "Uh...I think it is unmarked. Come to think of it, it is a pretty old building. Slightly industrialized, but nothing too far from that."

"Downtown Moscow?" Viktor quirked a brow.

"No, but it is around there."

"Hmm," the Russian presented the teeth of the key to America and it made sense. America's eyes widened, "This here," he pointed at the end of the key, "is the key's teeth. Usually, the teeth of a key are very intricate and most of the time, quite random. However, this one's," he held up the teeth to America, "plainly reads out 'Перестройка', which we all know is the Russian reformation of the country set in by the Soviet Union. Whatever building you are trying to break in, I suggest you rethink your plans."

America blanched at the sudden revelation. Перестройка, or 'Reconstruction', was, as he said, the reformation of Russia to the Soviet Union. The building they played Tetris in, he didn't really think of much. There might be something about those two computers inside that they shouldn't be messing with. He really hoped that Ivan had a good reason why he's doing it inside that particular building. It suddenly worried him that those two computers, especially the one that he contacted Russia on, could be traced and their messages imploded. 

"Whoa, there, son," Viktor gruffed, "You are looking a little shaken there."

"It is...nothing," America shook his head, "It is just...buildings of that caliber, do not blatantly show the word of their purpose directly on the metal," he muttered, the thought just dawning on him. He didn't tell Viktor that it was also the code he used to access a hidden (hopefully hidden part of one of the computers).

The other nodded in agreement, "There is a chance that there is more reason behind it, but very few. Chances are that they had made a foolhardy mistake."

His cerulean eyes slowly drew up to meet Viktor's light blue ones, "...You speak as if you're secretly working against them."

Viktor met his gaze with the same level of subtle heat, "What about you?"

He thought about that for a few seconds. While he was totally anti-USSR, he wasn't actively working against the Soviet Union right now. No, his main goal is to get him and Russia out of here. So, in all honestly, he's trying to save Russia, like the Soviets, and maybe even his own self in this era. They were only in their right minds to act out of their minds, back then.

"I am not going against nor am I supportive of the USSR," America said firmly, "What I am focused on is a personal mission that has nothing to do with the USA or the USSR," well, it does, just not the 'USA' and the 'USSR' Viktor's thinking of.

Viktor stared at him through his messy, ebony bangs. He knew that Alik was against the Soviet Union in some way; he could feel it in his bones. However, he also feels a deep pain from the young man, concerning their motherland. It must be something personal because Alik wasn't telling him anything about it. Considering how defensive he had gotten during the conversation about his family and childhood, Viktor knew prying would be a bad idea. He still knew very little about this mysterious man's abilities.

"...Very well, then," Viktor said, "I do know someone who can replicate keys. The key might take about a day or so to copy."

That's gonna take too long, "Is there any way to make it any faster? I do not want...the person who I stole the key from realizing that the key is gone." 

Huh. Viktor forgot about that, "Well," he thought quickly for a moment, "I am going to be heading up to Piter for an informal exchange."

St. Petersburg, America thought, he's heard Russia say it before, "Informal exchange?" he frowned in confusion, "Why are you tell me this?"

"My line of work is none of your business as yours is none of mine," Viktor gruffed, "I was planning to Ivan up there with me for a day and head back. The key will be done by then. I will give you the location for the replicator. Make haste, Alik," reaching over to a small side table, he grabbed a pen and piece of paper and messily scrawled an address.

America's eyes widened at the opening, "Wait, no, why are you taking Ivan with you?" not that he was arguing. If he took Ivan on that informal exchange, then he'd never know the key was missing.

Viktor skittered in his scrawling, "You do understand my sister's tendency to stray, yes?" America remembered Ivan's mother. He gave a hesitant nod that Viktor couldn't see.

"I am trying my best to give them less reason to be suspicious of me. I am distant and resilient because that is what they expect of me. That does not mean I am always like that," he murmured with an amused chuckle, "Ivan had always been more perspective than his father and mother. If I wish to keep the child's call at bay from the bigger threat, then I must act accordingly."

He turned back to America, a paper in his hand, "Although, your issue might count in as a problem. I can keep another under wraps but not with Ivan around."

"Oh, no," America shook his head, "Take Ivan, I will...take care of it," in reality, Viktor was already taking care of the second half of his worries, "I would not want you to lose in the eyes of...the Braginskys."

The Russian allowed a smirk. Handing it to Alik, he gave him a firm nod, "I might never understand what you are doing. I usually look more into my clients when they ask for peculiar help like this," the pale blue-eyed man stared hard into the other's cerulean ones, "But I feel...I feel that something terrible is going to happen and that if I do not help you, it may come to pass."

That definitely didn't settle well in America's chest. Viktor was a wise man, he knew that somehow, but he always leaned on his intuition. He knew that 'Alik' wasn't very versed in the ways of the Soviet Union, even before he brought it up. America truly did feel like this entire world was like a playing field created by that game. Maybe Viktor was his saving piece. Maybe he's the good side of the game that's trying to help him. This gave America more faith to believe in him.

"I do not know what will come in the future," America admitted, "but I feel inclined to trust you, as well," he took the stolen key again, along with the address to the replicator, "Protect Ivan, alright?"

Viktor rolled his eyes with a lopsided smile on his face, "Of course, I will. At the end of the day, I am still an uncle."

The other let out a short, but bright, American laugh, "It is sometimes hard to imagine a stoic man like you having any sort of younger."

"Wait until you settle down with children and you will not be saying that," Viktor grumbled, but in good nature.

"Oh, no, Viktor," America laughed a bit harder, memories of his crazy, ragtag family of states and territories flying through his mind, "I already know. I come from a...different family, remember?"

The black-haired Russian perked as he watched his blonde companion subsided in his bell-like laughs, "I...I was under the impression you and your family did not get along."

Silence. Sinking further into his chair, his cerulean eyes glittering from the fire, he sighed, "We did not always. Long ago we had a fight that tore the family in half," his revolution, in fact, "I later started making a family of my own, even though I...I could not marry," disastrous to some, but even more destructive if he were to partake in marriage, "We are a circus, but it is my circus. As long as we can be our own controlling ringmaster, all of us will have some sort of definition of fine, hm?"

"What about you?" Viktor whispered, "Should you be the ringmaster as the head of the family?"

"I am no ringmaster, Viktor," his cerulean eyes closed with a sigh, "I am only a founder. They could easily break off into their own tropes, many of which have proclaimed in wanting to do so, but, in the end, did not," America stood up from his chair, "I do not know how long I can keep them together, but I would love to see them pursue in what they wish to do. I cannot keep them from it since I know what is coming for them. Who knows? We will have to wait and see, yes?"

Leaving it at that, America walked toward the front door, seeing that he had some time before Ivan would have to leave with his uncle to Piter. In the meantime, he'll just look for the replicator. Walking a little way into the cold, snowy environment, he broke out into an inhumanly fast sprint, unknowing that Viktor watched him with a look of shock.

A glance at the clock in his living room was all he needed to know that he probably needed to go pick up Ivan. He was about to offer Alik a ride back into the city, but it looks like he'll get back just fine. 

~~~~~

It felt weird not to go to the Tetris building, or so America had internally started calling it, today as he had been for a while. However, he didn't want to go home before finding out where the replicator was. November was dwindling away and December was somewhere...probably next week? What day was it even? Rubbing his hands firmly together, he walked quickly through the slums, or so the chicken scratch was leading him. What if he wasn't even reading this correctly? Man, he should've asked for clarification before Viktor left. He and Ivan were probably already in St. Petersburg.

Now that he thought about it, he was wandering pretty close to his apartment room. Was the replicator near his...house? America felt his heart sink a little. He didn't feel like he was anywhere near where he needed to be. Squinting down through his snowflake-speckled lens, he peered once again at the scrawl on his slightly soaked and slightly crumpled piece of paper.

A little white later, America found himself standing in front of a very familiar door. It was dark out and his brain was in a million different places. Sighing to himself, he pocketed the piece of paper and rapped his knuckle on the door. The stubborn and weary American was gonna get this key replicated by tomorrow, so help him-

"Alik? My boy? Why are you standing out there in the cold without any proper coat? Come inside, come inside!" 

The door swung open to reveal...the landlord? Before America could say anything out of shock, he was urged inside, the nice heat warming him and shutting up his shivers. He couldn't help but let out a sigh of content for a few seconds. A blanket was quickly wrapped around him as the landlord ushered him to sit down on the couch he sat on before.

"W-What-?" America breathed out.

The elder-looking man hushed the blonde as he stood back up, "Breath, Alik, relax. I will go make you some tea to warm you back up."

When he left the living room, America looked around with a new set of eyes. Over on a different table that America didn't notice before, there was a contraption covered with a dusty cloth. Sitting next to this small machine was a large container of some kind of liquid, perhaps, and safety gear. It in the back, nearly obscured by other shelves and the grandfather clock.

America assumed right away, "Sir...?"

The landlord was just coming back in with a tray of tea, "Yes, my boy?"

His mouth felt dry as he shakily took the tea that was offered to him, "I..." what was he to say? He had no idea that his landlord, of all people, would potentially have some kind of work against the Soviet Union. There was still the possibility that he was in the wrong house and he couldn't possibly-

"Alik," the landlord started, leaning towards him. America saw him bear an amused smile before asking, "Do you want me to get that key replicated?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it took so long and the update was shorter than usual. I mean, man, the updates will probably never have a steady length. XD  
Anyways, America's just figuring out about the network attached to Moscow and getting acquainted with it. Life's gonna be a little more than Tetris and there's a couple more things that the game wants him to do...
> 
> Tell me what you think! Comments would be nice~


	9. New Events

Outside of the dark and locked building, students frowned at it's usually unlocked door, a little put out at not seeing their Tetris tournament take place today. Many just brushed it off, knowing where the owner of the key was, or at least from what he said. Others had to ask what was going on and such. They all dispersed from the building, starting to wait for the next day to resume, hopefully. 

Inside, however, something was alive. 

Whirling inside the outdated frame of the IBM computer, Russia was trying to wake up. 

It seemed from America's communicating with him had given him more free will. Before it was that if he didn't forward this data, didn't deliver this information, the system would run a painful shock up his spine. It didn't help that this computer was constantly being used for Tetris, which was a game with many commands. It took him a while to get used to synchronize with the patterns players used with the game. 

However, recently, there had been a strategy that was being used exclusively for this computer. Russia had gotten used to avoiding shocks with this one, for he realized it was just the same player. After some time, he saw something in his patterns, watching on the other side of the waterfall of blocks. It was so very familiar as if it was from his own time. Stacking and combo-ing. Just like America. 

It had to be him. No one in this entire universe played like that in this time era besides maybe him. Hope swelled in his digital heart. He had been trapped in here for almost three months and the sign of actually getting flooded him with hope, anticipation, and a tinge of fear. This computer had no camera or microphone and Russia couldn't see or hear any of the players. All he heard was the constant tune of Kororbeiniki and the whirling of the computer fan. Since his history of wars has allowed him to bounce back in the past, Russia honestly thought that being trapped here would finally be the straw that broke the camel's back. Would this be the one thing that'll finally drive him insane?

Something woke him up. The system started to whirl back to life. Too soon. He wasn't ready. He was tired and couldn't bear to listen to that tune, right now-

He felt the cursor click the Tetris icon, and Russia begrudgingly sent the code in to load the game. Once again, he started shoveling bits of sent data to make the game run and he finally gets the starting screen to pop up. As he anticipated for this random player to click start for whatever reason, he felt the cursor move in a different direction and click...something else. 

A wave ran through Russia's body, a flood of warmth and life that he missed so long ago. He started to feel a body again. He hadn't felt any kind of connection to his actual body, considering that whenever he does actually feel, it's pain. The Russian could flex his fingers, wiggle his toes, stretch his limbs, move his head. He felt...well, human again. 

Someone was communicating with him.

Eager for some kind of form of contact that wasn't strictly from the computer, he felt himself...swim up? Swimming up through the code. Russia wanted to jump out of the screen and hug whoever gave him back these sensations. However, he was blocked by this encrypted barrier that had a single line of text displayed out for the user. It was in English and that astonished him. On a smaller display that appeared in front of him (which he was familiar with whenever he needed to forward code for Tetris games), the line read; '**What is the safeword?_**'.

What?

The sequence of code told Russia that this was a user-typed entry that they needed to put in a password to get past the firewall...or whatever the code would unlock. But why did it say safeword? Who would even understand that? In the midst of his own confusion, he felt the user type in something, '**Перестройка_**'. 

If Russia's heart didn't swell then, with his more felt senses his whole being was piping with adrenaline and hope. The word was so familiar and so ironically hilarious that if Russia could, he'd be laughing so hard, he'd cry. Heck, he'd cry now, if he was physically able. He knows who it is. The only one who knew what the word was for between them.

Nervously pressing his code-fabricated hands onto the small display in front of him, his mind typed out his responses and just as he thought, it was America. They were going to get out of here.

Or at least that's what he thought.

Tonight, Russia felt a rustle in the system, like he felt when America first found him. Had America come back? Did he have a plan? Come to think of it, Russia needed to start strategizing, pulling his own weight. There was so much he needed to know.

He sent the password screen, in English, like the code did last time and eagerly waited for America to type in and for them to talk again. However, a different word was typed into the entry. 

**Алик_**

'Alik'?

What...who was Alik? This can't be America, the name Alik didn't make any sense for him to type in. Sure it was a nickname that he might've said a couple of times, but not as near as many times as 'Fredka' or 'Podsolnuhk'. The computer accepted the password, for some reason, and Russia watched in confusion. He wasn't forced to forward data for the completion of any of the computer's commands. It was like it was doing it by itself, this time. Russia was just forced to be there and watch. The next words were all written in Russian, from which the other could understand.

The user typed things that asked the computer a multitude of things that Russia wasn't even aware that an old IBM computer could answer and supply to. They asked about the statuses of people who have used the computer, to which the computer responds, in 'English, 59% and Still Imprisoned'. There were other things, like the amount of space left on the computer, which, to Russia's surprise, there was more than what a computer like this should even be capable of bearing. It was clearly obvious that the computer he was stuck in wasn't a normal one. The user asked about the size of the Tetris game. It didn't sound like a storage space question, but the computer replied with an answer of that kin, except the game had so little...space left in it. It confused the Russian to no end.

After a couple more questions, Russia saw the next request was typed in English.

**Open Controls_**

**[Controls Center Opening]_**

A whole new set of commands and code flew across the screen and brought up what appeared to be a coding system, where one could implement commands, and what looks like...objects? It looked like a game creator, actually. There was a grid dividing the pixelated map and in a sidebar to the left with buildings, people, objects and whatnot to place into the game. They move the cursor and selects a folder, to where notes appeared on screen, in both Russian and English. A fury of typing, selecting, moving, and coding was being done and Russia watched in awe and confusion. There was multiple file notes that the user would scroll through. When he got to the character option, that's when Russia started getting some kind of understanding.

The first character file they pulled up was of a little pixel sprite with black hair and blue eyes. It was a male from what Russia could tell from just the sprite. According to the inserts to the side of the sprite animation, the name of the character is 'Viktor' and his status was 'Playing Event Sequence'. The user deleted his current status and selected 'New Event'. Russia couldn't exactly tell, but it was commanding this Viktor character to lead another sprite to some other location to what it was supposed to do previously. He was at Level 39.

The next character file was someone titled 'Zima', another ebony-haired character, whose hair seemed slicked back and his eyes a lighter shade than Viktor's. It looked like an older character. Russia can't seem to understand why this character looked familiar. The status of the character was 'Neutral', to which the user changed also 'New Event'. Instead of creating a new one as they did for Viktor, the user selected a premade one from other files and inserted it in. Russia couldn't tell what it was. He was at Level 64.

The user had to pull up a premade character into the game and set him up. It was another he, but this character was created with different stats as the rest. The name of the character was 'Dimitriarch' and he had platinum blonde hair with almost Viktor's light blue eyes. However, Russia could see that this sprite wasn't in civilian clothes, like the rest. This sprite was wearing a pixelated version of what appeared to be a Soviet Union uniform. Russia couldn't tell what rank this character was, but the uniform design was obvious. According to his set stats, he had an insane amount of strength and health. He was at Level 85.

It had suddenly occurred to Russia that this might not be just a game programming.

The last character that they pulled up made Russia choke up, even though he didn't have a body. The character had two sets of stats and characteristics. It was another blonde male with blue eyes, but the colors were deeper and vivid. The skin was tanner and he bore a dark brown bomber jacket, white shirt, and jeans. Russia could make out the couple of pixels that made up a small ahoge and glasses.

The first file that he selected was the one Russia immediately recognized. There, in bold English, was the name 'Alfred F. Jones'. The stats for this sprite had more than a ten-fold times more power than Dimitriarch. All of his stats were pretty much maxed and he had special abilities on the sides. He was at a high level, as well, a number with glitching digits for being so long.

The second file was different. The stats were lowered, _extremely lowered_. A changing level of strength, speed, defense, evasiveness, and level or experience acquiring. It was a very normal-looking profile of sprite information, compared to the first one. There were no powers, no special abilities, no nothing. This version of Alfred was only at Level 56. He was higher than Viktor but lower than his other profile, Zima, and Dimitriarch.

After watching the user fiddle around with some coding, he turned to the status of the lesser-powered Alfred file. The status for the second file was 'Player Controlled - Interaction'. He clicked the status and a whole different selection was presented there. Other players had more computer sounding statuses within video games like 'New Event', 'Playing Event Sequence' and even a few others that weren't selected like 'Deactivate' and things like that. This selection of statuses for Alfred were things like 'Unconscious', 'Conscious', 'Hungry', 'Warm', 'Cold', 'Angry', 'Insane', 'Euphoria' and things of human activity and emotion. 

Russia watched the cursor click the 'Unconscious' status and the status changed to 'Player Controlled - Unconscious'. He started mentally thrashing, wanting to scream for them to reverse whatever they had done. They were affecting Alfred, _America_, like a puppet. They were being controlled and manipulated. He watched the user save all of the files and exit out of the secret hood of the computer system. Russia wanted to see those files and mess with that system. However, he was chained to the computer's commands and fell unconscious as the computer was shut off.

The last thing he thought was America being trapped in this computer with him on the other side. And, man, didn't that thought made Russia cry inside.

~~~~~

"Y-You?!" America exclaimed a bit too loudly for his freezing body. Apparently, his landlord, which he later learns is named Mikhail, was an informant and supplier to the Russian Resistance. Mikhail explained to America about what he did and what the poor man just got himself stuck in.

"By our communications together, dear boy, if you alert any authorities or outsiders, either me or Viktor will have to kill you," Mikhail shakes his weary head sadly, "I do hope it never comes to that. I have grown quite fond of you."

"You should not trust me so easily," America all but pleaded. Too many people that he had interacted with were actually someone else. He didn't want to grow an attachedment to the point where he couldn't leave, "You barely know me."

"And how do you know that?" Mikhail quirked a brow. "For all you know, I am but a humble landlord with an extra job on the side. You do not know how much information I could find on you."

America crumpled a little, "Listen, Mr. Mikhail, you are not going to find anything about a man like me," he muttered.

The elder frowned, "You truly think so?"

"Positive," the blonde said, "There is nothing about me anywhere in Russia, as far as I know."

When Mikhail could see there was nothing he could do to convince him of that knowledge. While he could easily rake over the entire Russian system, there was a slim chance that he could actually find anything about him. He knew not of his family or of his origins. However, he appears to be a young man that didn't entirely grasp the nature of what he was about to be immersed in.

"Very well, then," Mikhail relented. He stood up and checked on the status of the cooling key, resting in its mold. Alik was gaping at him for the majority of the process and it has surprised the older that he decided to release his outburst now.

"So," America murmured, "How long will it take to cure?"

"You will have to wait the next morning, dear boy," Mikhail smiled, as he took a seat next to him, taking his refilled teacup from its saucer, "Patience."

America sipped from his own tea. It was a little bland, but he didn't mind. He's had much resistance from his time with England, "Alright. I will come by after I am done with my work in the afternoon. Again, thank you very much for helping me."

"It was a pleasure, my boy. I am glad I was able to help," the old man smiled again.

America and the other stared at each other before America finally relented and asked, "...why have you or Viktor asked me what I will do with this key?"

Mikhail's smile seemed to dim, turning sad and a little regretful, "We do not have to, Alik," and left it at that.

Around that time, America decided it was time for him to retire back at his place. He had a Tetris game tomorrow and needed to remember to place the key in front of Ivan's house before he goes to work. Patting the original key in his pocket, America walked out of the landlord's home and back into the frigid, cold night. He was walking a short way into the alleyways that branched out into the different parts of the slums, until...

_*ba-bump*_

A strong constriction tightened around his heart, making him gasp and double over. He panicked, not knowing what was happening to his body. His lungs felt like lead and his body was relaxing at an alarming rate. Was he dying? Did this have anything to do with the game? That if he stayed here too long, he'd die? What was happening?

America passed out in the middle of the alleyway as the snow slowly drifted down from the cloudy night sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh~ things are about to get complicated. ^^;  
Yes, I know there are a lot of OC characters in here, but they play an important part, please, bear with me ;v;. You get a glimpse of the villain in this chapter! Someone else is coming, as well :0. What will happen to America? Will they get out? Who's Dimitriarch? Who was the user on the computer? Or what is even happening in general? XD :0  
Find out soon, maybe!
> 
> Alright, tell me what you think! :D

**Author's Note:**

> So, there's that! I swear, I have a lot more chapters already typed down, I just gotta look over them and see where I can break off a chapter without it sounding weird. XD. I don't know how betas work for writing, so I'm doing the best I can with doing it solo. If there are any questions or constructive criticism that you can provide, shoot it at me.
> 
> Tell me what you think! Thank you~


End file.
